


Tears of a Boxer

by ForwardMoon



Category: Persona 3
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Did you see that Shinji?, I'm so sorry, Masturbation, This was supposed to just be a joke but people actually enjoyed it so here we are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 17:04:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13252692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForwardMoon/pseuds/ForwardMoon
Summary: Maybe Minato got a bit carried away with the video recordings. Karma is a bitch, and he ends up watching his senpai caught up in something profoundly disturbing.This is what happens when jokes on discord go too far and you're the writer of the bunch.





	Tears of a Boxer

Minato’s hand idled on the mouse as he scanned the log dates on display. A single click and a whole new set of times appeared before him. Most were familiar, recordings of his friends that he’d watched previously. The prior night had exhausted him entirely, and the thought of dragging himself to class this morning had been enough to make him wish the shadows had managed to finish him off. 

So today was his. He’d slept in, eaten a hefty breakfast, and neglected to change out of his pajamas. Minato had assumed that was as good as it could get - until the surveillance tapes had caught his attention. The endless nagging of Mitsuru to keep his hands off the expensive tech had given rise to an insatiable curiosity. He didn’t really have a goal, he just needed to mess with something. It’s not like he would break it, after all. Soon after creeping up to the fourth floor, he’d discovered the recordings and had been entertained ever since. 

A recording from last week caught his eye. He’d yet to watch anything that recent yet, and how could he break this chain of self indulgence now? Minato glanced at the stairs. No one in sight. Not a sound throughout the building. He hit play.

In the moment of silence as the video cued up, he rushed back to the conference room chairs and kicked his feet up.

The room cast upon the screen was one he’d become accustomed to at this point - surfaces adorned with shining trophies to the point of clutter, every item was arranged to make the best use of the floor space at the cost of becoming dangerous to navigate in the dark - as it was now. It couldn’t be night time though, the timestamp only read 1:30 P.M. Upon closer inspection, Minato could clearly see a thin sliver of light leaking from beneath drawn curtains. He didn’t have time to ponder the meaning of it - a sharp noise cut into his senses like a knife jammed directly into his spine.

A sob. Clearly, and unmistakably. The sharp inhale accompanied by an utter failure on the part of the owner to control his shaking breathe. It sent Minato spiraling into discomfort immediately. He averted his eyes, and for a moment was overcome by the urge to flee. These situations just made him feel awkward and had it not been only a recording, he would have stuck his hands in his pockets and quietly slid out of the room in a heartbeat. 

But he could relax, there were no moral obligations binding him to offer the worst emotional assistance one could hope for here. He could just observe at his leisure. Still, it felt a bit private. 

But not private enough for him to turn it off. 

His eyes turned back to the screen. Akihiko was clearly in view. He faced a small patch of wall that wasn’t blocked by a bookcase or desk, leaning with his head against his arm. The senior was looking down, his face buried in the sleeve of his dress shirt. It felt almost strange to see him defiling his outfit that always seemed freshly pressed and clean. It was even stranger that the ends of Akihiko’s shirt had come untucked and was crumpled messily around the top of his jeans.

Minato squinted at the screen. The footage was clear, and he had no basis on which to believe that it could be fake or altered. The image it showed him was so removed from his perception of his senpai that he couldn’t tear his eyes away, despite the eerie cries pouring from the figure. Minato could see now that his hand was clenched in a fist, shaking against the wall with the rest of his body. The position of his digits fluctuated slightly, responding to some phantom stimuli and gripping only the air. 

Something was definitely wrong. Minato found that he had leaned forward without thinking, trying to piece together the image before him. Akihiko’s pants seemed to sag slightly against his figure, the front dipping below his hips. His arm was wrapped around the front of his body, reaching beyond the edge of his sweater vest and the camera’s view. 

The muscles of his bicep tensed and released slightly, creating just enough movement for the camera to catch. Minato froze as he realized what he was watching. Once again, the urge to shut off the recording and hastily leave the room bubbled up in him. This really _was_ private, certainly not something Akihiko would want to be projected on a gigantic screen for the viewing pleasure of his friends. 

And yet, Minato stayed in place. Yes, he was slack-jawed and more than a bit taken aback by the image before him, but he didn’t want to turn it off. Voyeur was an ugly word, and Minato didn’t have time to think about why he was choosing to let the video continue. Right now he needed to process the display before him, every cry and sniffle along with every jerk of his senpai’s body against his own hand. 

The shaky arm Akihiko had been using to support himself against the wall was moving now, slowly sliding over the painted interior and reaching down toward a desk. He still needed the arm to keep him anchored - he couldn't remove it from the surface, so his fingers brushed across the plane and guided him downward. For a moment he hesitated, losing his thought in the motion of his other hand, but then striking like a hawk he pulled a tissue from the desk and brought it quickly to his face. His cries were more muffled than before now, and it took only moments for the thin tissue to become saturated with mucus and tears. 

Disregarding the tissue, Akihiko returned his arm to its original position and nestled his head against his sleeve once more. The sounds he made grew quiet and restrained as his motions became more erratic and intense. He released himself only to swipe another tissue from the desk moments before his shoulders slackened and he let out a final piercing sob. 

Akihiko stood still for a moment, panting too quietly for the system to catch. His previously firm composition shuddered slightly before he crumpled to the ground without warning. He laid still, curled into himself slightly. His clothes were still a mess of wrinkled whites and a loose belt. He moved only to pluck a third tissue and bring it to his face, where silent tears still seemed to be falling. 

The screen turned to black.

Minato sat stunned in the silence of the dorm, far too large for a single, lonely person. He didn’t feel himself. Something had changed him, whether a religious experience or a peek into the darkest pits of hell. Much like the image of his senpai, he didn’t move for quite some time.

The only thing that could bring him back to his senses was the call of his own name by a voice slightly too gruff for it’s own good. He stiffened, wondering if perhaps he was hallucinating the beginning of some divine retribution. 

However, the appearance of the silver haired man in the doorway to the conference room marked the death of that hope. Akihiko strode over to him, oblivious and unbothered. 

“I wanted to check up on you,” He began, smile melting away as he looked Minato up and down. “God, you look paler than before. I thought maybe we could eat lunch together but...” Minato quickly shook his head, silencing his senior.

“I don’t think I could handle that right now.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that this was good for a laugh because I am deeply ashamed of what I've done to Persona 3's loving and supportive best boy.


End file.
